Dancing On His Heart, Living In His Heart
by blacksouledbutterfly
Summary: But you can’t always trust that the person who lives in your heart has you living in theirs... Abby/Trish/Henry


It takes two to make a couple and three to make a triangle even when one party isn't aware they are a member of this twisted circle of love and lust and lies. But lack of knowledge does no innocence make because even the most unaware of person can create such a situation and sometimes they unwittingly feed into it. And though the fact is purely accidental and perhaps ever coincidental it still causes damage nonetheless.

They were not so unalike, the two of them who had found themselves in the heart of a devil in the guise of a man, both with dark hair and fair skin and faces that poets would write about. They had both entered his world as mere children and both lingered on in it long into adulthood and while one lived in his heart openly the other he hid away deep inside of it, never daring to reveal it for the world would never understand. Love should not transcend certain boundaries and even a devil isn't supposed to love their own flesh and flood, to dream of kissing their skin and tasting their desire, drinking it down like fine wine and pulsing inside of them on a mission to find ecstasy. To want to love and hold and fuck your sister is a sin that even the most forgiving of people cannot forgive for even a moment and thus he hid her deep within his heart and played the friend, and played the backbone for her when she felt weak. And he let the other one dance on the surface of his hear like a ballerina while his sister lay sleeping, safe inside of that mass of muscle and blood.

His greatest mask was deception because while he dreamt of a life with his sister, the other he dreamt of killing and she never would have guessed. How simple it would be to take her life and feel her blood coating his fingers. So simple to slip a blade into her side or smash her head into little pieces until her blood and her brain dripped down his fingers like the inside of a smashed egg and she would mistake his looks for those of pure love when he was playing inside of his head all the ways to steal her life from her. Because he had been using so many replacements, feeling their blood on his hands instead of hers and seeing the life leave their eyes instead of hers. He had been letting them be her in his head but never on his heart; she owned that spot, dancing around on top of it and touching down from time to time.

And over time as her feet wound touch down he began to feel true affection towards her. It was nothing the affection that she felt for his sister but it was affection nonetheless and while he continued to want to destroy her he also knew that a part of him would miss this beautiful woman who he told the world was his soul mate. When her last breath was taken and she was gone from this earth he would mourn her loss and then move on and be with the one who lived inside of his heart, his flesh and his blood and his love and his lust.

Because she was the only one that he had ever felt whole and sane with; she was the one who accepted him and needed him. And when her mother died and she needed someone to speak to she wouldn't call her high school boyfriend or anyone else but him. And he would listen to her cry over the phone and he would take her pain into his own heart and while he hated her mother- his mother- he hated the pain his father had caused her. And despite his love for his father his love for the woman who lived in his heart was stronger than that love. If he had to choose between the two then he would always choose her, always put her above all others.

So, he had taken these two women, the one who lived on his heart and the one who lived inside of it and had brought them to the island of blood and nightmares under the guise of there to be a wedding between himself and the one who lived on his heart. And he played the part of a loving fiancé and he pretended to be sad when he and his father, an older and stronger and more practiced devil than he himself, systematically took the lives of those who loved him and the women of his heart. And with each last breath and each drop of blood he felt himself growing closer to being able to reveal the true mate of his soul. It was all justified if he was able to be with her, the woman who lived inside of his heart and all of the pain and the tears would be worth it in the end. For she would love him and they would live happily ever after on the island of blood and nightmares, the two of them for eternity and no one would be able to try to convince this devil that it was wrong to love his sister.

But when the devil took the last of life from the woman who lived on his heart he had come to realize that her death would cause her pain for he had become accustomed to her and it really wasn't fair that he had used her the way he had. But she had lived out her purpose and there was nothing more that she was needed for, for him or anyone else. And he would destroy the man who wanted to steal away the woman who lived inside of his heart and all would be well. And he even killed his father, the older and stronger and more practiced devil so he may be with the woman who lived in his heart.

But you can't always trust that the person who lives in your heart has you living in theirs and in a moment and a thrust of a blade his own life was stolen from him by the woman who lived in his heart, by his own flesh and blood and love and lust. And though her eyes told him that somewhere in her heart of hearts he too lived, that she cared for him as much as he did her he couldn't be angry with her. He could only mumble his love to her because she still lived inside of his heart even as his heart died.

And these two women, not so different, both with dark hair and fair skin and faces that poets would write about had both danced with this devil and had held onto his hand and hugged his body to theirs and whispered his name in one way or another; they had cried tears for his brother's death when the devil himself had stolen his life and they had trusted him with every part of them. They had both found him to be their Rock of Gibraltar and the source of their ultimate pain. Both woman had lived inside of his chest and had stayed by his side.

But neither of them had dared to look him in the eye and see the devil who lived behind the guise of a man.


End file.
